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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25672597">Fragile</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imagining_in_the_Margins/pseuds/Imagining_in_the_Margins'>Imagining_in_the_Margins</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Criminal Minds (US TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bisexual Spencer Reid, Co-workers, Disabled Character, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Idiots in Love, M/M, Romantic Fluff, Self-Insert</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 04:42:22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,237</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25672597</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imagining_in_the_Margins/pseuds/Imagining_in_the_Margins</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Disabled!Reader (Gender Neutral). Spencer has to stay behind on a case and gets to know the new technical analyst.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Spencer Reid/Reader, Spencer Reid/You</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>107</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Fragile</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I’m a very proud person. I like to do things for myself, and for the most part, I’m perfectly capable. Even when things are difficult, my problem-solving skills have gotten me far in life. So when I say that my plan to carry my cup of coffee and donut to my desk was foolproof, I need everyone to know that it would have worked.</p><p>However, that being said, I acknowledge that it did not look all that foolproof as I was hobbling along with one and a half elbow crutches, a cup of practically boiling coffee in my hand, and a donut shoved in my mouth. Still, I could avoid most of the judgmental stares from the coworkers who already knew better than to ask me if I needed help.</p><p>All but one. </p><p>“Hey.”</p><p>If it had been anyone else, I wouldn’t have stopped. I would have mumbled a muffled greeting through the pastry and continued on my way. But it was just too hard to resist the temptation to talk to Dr. Spencer Reid. I’d only worked here for a few months, and I’d rarely gotten the chance to talk to him beyond quick questions on the phone and conference room meetings.</p><p>It wasn’t for a lack of trying, either. I had gone to every single event that the team had gone to; it was Spencer that didn’t go. At first, he had said it was because he wanted to spend the little free time he had with his girlfriend (one of the most significant bummers of my admittedly relatively short existence), but after a few weeks, I found out that they’d broken up.</p><p>And, being the kind and understanding soul that I am, I’d decided it was best to give him some space before I made my move. After all, it would suck to be a rebound for your coworker. I insisted to myself that was the only reason, but I knew I was also a filthy, stupid liar.</p><p>Because as I stumbled against the empty desk behind me, dropping the crutch I had tucked under my arm onto the floor and practically spilling the coffee along with it, I still tried to look like I wasn’t a goddamn disaster.</p><p>Pulling the donut from my mouth and not even trying to wipe away the powdered sugar that covered my cheeks, I smoothly replied, “Hey, yourself.” </p><p>Spencer gave an absent nod, standing with his hands tucked safely in his pockets as he inspected the chaotic scene in front of him. Then, as expected, he asked the question I usually loathed to hear.</p><p>“Do you need help?”</p><p>The world paused, just like it did every time I got the question. I had to weigh my choices carefully, knowing full well that one errant decision would ruin my day for many days to come. I could either accept the offer and risk that person forever viewing me as someone who both wanted and needed their help, or I could deny the offer and risk that person watching me make a fool out of myself.</p><p>And as awful as the former sounded, I just really didn’t want him to see me fall on my ass.</p><p>“Need it? No. I’ll take it though, if you’re offering,” I nervously laughed, trying to steady myself as we both bent over to grab my crutch at the same time. Ignoring the urge to call it a meet-cute, considering we’d already met and I did not look very cute at the time, I let him do at least that much for me.</p><p>He went to trade the crutch for the cup of coffee, but I held up my pinky in pause, wagging it at him as I cautiously warned, “But only if you’re doing it out of the kindness of your heart and not out of pity.”</p><p>Spencer peered over the top of the cup, clearly recognizing the smell as his favorite blend of coffee. Not that I’d been stalking him or his preference, or anything, I’d just noticed the few times that we’d been in the kitchen together.</p><p>“Why would I pity you? You got the last cup of the good coffee,” he astutely pointed out, taking the cup from me when he earned his sought-after chuckle.</p><p>“So is that why you offered? So you could swap our cups when I wasn’t looking?” I returned before I popped the donut back into my mouth, starting in the direction of what my predecessor had lovingly deemed ‘<em>her lair</em>.’</p><p>I could tell that Spencer was at least a little bit surprised by my speed, having to jog just a little to catch up to me once I started moving. When he was safely beside me again, I saw him bite his bottom lip.</p><p>“I was actually wondering if it would be possible for me to hang out with you today.”</p><p>Although the donut was just stuck in my mouth, I still nearly choked on the sugar as I gasped at the question. Luckily for me, Spencer didn’t see that because he was too busy opening the door for me. He patiently waited for my answer, too, standing behind the other chair in the room as I took my seat in front of the computers.</p><p>Having had more time to formulate an at least somewhat put together response, I smiled as I finally took the most satisfying bite of a donut I’ve ever had in my life.</p><p>“Are you lonely, Dr. Reid?” I finally asked, crossing my legs and spinning around in the chair to see the man more clearly. He still held both cups of our coffee, and his face tried to hide the sly grin on his cheeks as his eyes darted over my cheeks that were probably still dirty from the donut.</p><p>“A little bit, yeah,” he admitted, clearing his throat and handing me the cup of coffee. Sure enough, when I took it, he used the free hand to tap his cheek, alerting me of the presence or powdered sugar on my own, which I frantically wiped away.</p><p>“Then by all means, have a seat, darling,” I instructed, kicking the chair backwards into his legs. I knew it was his least favorite part of the year; the team had insisted he take a vacation, which was scheduled to start the next day. So, naturally, when they’d been assigned to a case that morning, they’d promptly forbidden him from traveling with them, knowing that if given the option, he would cancel his vacation too quickly for them to protest.</p><p>“Thanks.”</p><p>And then came the expected, dreaded awkward silence. At least, I thought it was awkward, but from Spencer’s casual sips of coffee, I don’t think he was that bothered by it at all. Even worse for me, I could feel his eyes watching the screens in front of me. Which meant that he would see everything I could see and was probably going to judge how long it took me to read stuff. Also, I couldn’t screw around per usual.</p><p>After a few moments that felt more like hours, I spun my chair back around to meet the gaze that I thought had been affixed to my screens. But when I did, I realized that Spencer was looking at <em>me</em>, not my screens.</p><p>Clearing my throat, I gathered the courage to present the question I had been planning on asking when I turned around.</p><p>“So what’s the other reason you wanted to hang out in here?”  </p><p>He tilted his head to the side, chewing on his bottom lip before mumbling, “What other reason?”</p><p>“You’re a technophobe who just entered the mother of all dens of technology. There’s got to be another reason,” I laughed, gesturing to the flickering lights that looked more like a city skyline than an office.</p><p>But Spencer didn’t follow along, his eyes darting down to his coffee as he defensively squeaked, “No there doesn’t!”</p><p>I might not have been a profiler, but I knew a cute boy caught in a lie when I saw one. </p><p>“Spit it out,” I ordered, leaning forward and tucking my hands between my knees. My eyes narrowed as they tried to locate those damn clues they always talked about, but as soon as his eyes met mine, all coherent thought went out the window.</p><p>“Okay, fine. Truthfully?” he offered, playfully puckering his lips.</p><p>“Mhm?”</p><p>Spencer raised a hand, beckoning me closer with a small wave. I tried to obey, but found he was too far away to get as close as he wanted me to be. Luckily for me, he seemed dedicated to solving that problem.</p><p>Before I even knew what was happening, Spencer’s foot tucked around the base of my chair. He pulled the whole thing forward, the wheels easily carrying me forward until our knees bumped together.</p><p>And if he saw the signs of embarrassment written all over me, which I’m certain he did, he didn’t seem bothered by them. If anything, he kind of looked like the cat that got the cream.</p><p>“I don’t have another reason.”</p><p>“You’re a liar!” I shrieked back, not noticing how loud my voice was until it echoed back into the tiny room.</p><p>Thankfully, based on his equally loud laughter, Spencer seemed entertained. </p><p>“Okay, if I did have one, which I don’t,” he paused, raising a finger as if to emphasize the defense, “it wouldn’t be related to information technologies.”</p><p>“Did you just avoid saying the acronym IT?” I snorted. I‘d known the guy was old-fashioned, but I didn’t realize just how far that silliness went.</p><p>“They’re not difficult words to say,” he defended, crossing his arms and trying to hide his pout behind an obviously feigned confidence.  </p><p>“Dude, it’s 8 syllables.”</p><p>“I refuse to take criticism from someone who calls me ‘<em>dude</em>,’” he immediately shot back. Then, mimicking my earlier unease, he began to spin his chair away from me.</p><p>But I wasn’t about to let that happen, leaning forward and grabbing the arm of his chair and pulling him back closer to me as I sarcastically corrected myself, “Fine. It’s 8 syllables, <em>Dr. Reid</em>.”</p><p>He looked down at my hands, and I saw something flash over his features for just a second before he returned to the somewhat suave man that I’d been assured he wasn’t. I wondered why it was that he seemed so much more confident than people gave him credit for, but figured it was just a matter of my seeing him through rose tinted glasses.</p><p>“Maybe I just wanted to talk more and ran out of things to say,” he suggested.</p><p>The idea alone was enough to make me flustered, and hearing the words in his voice sent me to another plane of existence. Then, once again, Spencer was grinning at me with a devilishly satisfied smile that made me question whether he meant anything he said, or if he was just trying to rile me up.</p><p>So, I fought back. Just in case.</p><p>“You? No way,” I teased, pushing his chair away, knowing he wouldn’t go too far considering his feet were still resting on the legs of my chair.</p><p>“You’ve never talked to me!”</p><p>The implication made me pause, because we <em>had </em>talked before— on several occasions, actually. It was the words he didn’t say that mattered to me.</p><p>I’ve never talked with him… <em>alone</em>.</p><p>He raised his eyebrows in a challenge when I didn’t respond, too busy lost in my own panicked thoughts.</p><p>“I-I don’t need to. That’s how much you talk,” I said, sticking my nose in the air and hoping that it gave me some semblance of a proud appearance. Because while the comeback was honestly very good, I had also stuttered while saying it.</p><p>“That’s fair,” he replied with a gentle nod I saw through my peripherals.</p><p>With shakier hands, I continued to click buttons on the screen and pretend like I was doing something. But all the intelligent thoughts were gone, and the screen in front of me seemed like a bunch of gibberish.</p><p>Spencer was quiet then, rolling his chair over to sit beside me rather than stay awkwardly behind me, and he watched the windows as I dragged them over the monitors. That lasted for maybe 2 minutes before he stopped, looking back to me again.</p><p>“What if I told you that’s the real reason I came in here?”</p><p>That was enough to stop me in my tracks, which seemed to be a habit around the doctor. </p><p>“What? To talk?” I asked once I was able to make my traitorous hand move again.</p><p>“To talk <em>to you</em>.”</p><p>My heart stopped, and I had to double check that I was still connected to the chair, because I felt like the world was spinning around me. I turned to him after he said it, spotting the slight insecurity in his eyes before I could even come up with a quip to return. Because he’d meant it. Spencer just wanted to talk to me.</p><p>There were so many things I could have said. I could have flirted back, could have asked him to clarify, or just given him a knowing look to sympathize with his own anxieties over the situation we had placed ourselves in. But I didn’t do any of those things, because before I could pick one, we were very rudely interrupted by the insistent screaming of the telephone.</p><p>“Hello, this is (y/n),” I said much too loudly into the receiver once I managed to actually answer the call.</p><p>But, naturally, it was just the assholes from the second floor, demanding paper copies of files I knew they could have easily procured online, or by taking a short walk to the file room themselves.</p><p>“Uh… Yeah, I can bring you those it just might be a min–“ I mumbled absently, my mind still reeling from the sudden confession of Spencer, who now sat aloof and unbothered next to me.</p><p>The less interesting man whining incoherently into the other end of the call continued to cut me off, explaining the importance of the files. Which, if you asked me, was more of a reason they should have just gotten the damn things themselves.</p><p>“Yes, I know that it’s urgent, but if you want physical copies, you’re going to have to be patient. Yep. End of the day. Got it,” I curtly replied, slamming my finger on the key to cut off the call in a huff.</p><p>“Asshole,” I sighed, somehow almost forgetting the presence of the second person in the room. “Sorry! Not you, Reid. I meant the guy on the phone,” I quickly explained, tapping my hand over the earpiece to demonstrate something I’m sure he already knew.</p><p>He didn’t bother responding to any of that, though, instead focusing on the crux of the problem in his usual helpful manner. </p><p>“I can take the files for you.”</p><p>“Thanks, but I’ve got it. He can wait.” My face twisted into a grimace, and I regretted that Spencer could see it, but he sort of just giggled at the sight. He looked away for a minute, down at his fingers as they picked at the printed label on his coffee cup that always made me smile.</p><p>But then he was back to looking at me. And I realized that was what got to me about Spencer Reid: he looked at me.</p><p>So many people, both at work and outside of it, either saw through me or couldn’t see past the braces and crutches. But Spencer was never like that. When he looked at me, I felt… whole. It felt like I was just waiting for his eyes to find me again, and once they had, my body could relax into the comfort of his company.</p><p>It was intoxicating and addicting, and I just really wanted to know if he felt the same. But how could I ask him that? I mean, did he ever feel that way? He had to, right? He was an open and notorious savant in a space where those qualities were easily taken advantage of.</p><p>How did he stay so kind, so calm, so… innocent wasn’t the right word.</p><p>Spencer, unaware of the massive monologue I was waxing poetic in my head, ripped me from the thoughts with an awkward laugh.</p><p>“You know, the last time I was in here for this long was after I was shot in the knee.”</p><p>“Were you an adventurer before?” I said with a clever smile  and received an absolutely perplexed put in return.</p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p>I burst into a small fit of giggles at my own stupidity, which only confused the poor guy more. But really, it was my fault for making a vague video game reference to the man I’d literally just described as a technophobe.</p><p>“Never mind. It’s a bad joke.”</p><p>He accepted the answer, although I think I might have embarrassed him a little bit. There was no reason for him to feel bad about it, though. I was the one who’d made a joke that didn’t land. It figured that he would feel bad about that, though. Spencer was just sweet like that.</p><p>“I kind of drove Garcia crazy.”</p><p>“The feeling is mutual,” I announced with a hefty dose of sarcasm that I hoped would be enough for him to pick up on. And sure enough, whether it was the sarcasm or just the overall body language I was displaying, Spencer knew something was up.</p><p>“Now who’s lying?” he murmured under his breath, sipping from his coffee with those cute little quirked eyebrows.</p><p>My mouth dropped open at the forward accusation, and throwing a hand over my heart, I over-dramatically gasped, “I am <em>not</em> lying.”</p><p>“Maybe…” he whispered, poking his head forward and scooting his chair around me to get a better look at all angles of my face, which I presented to him the way I imagined a model would. Still, the jerk just chuckled, “It’s too hard to tell.”</p><p>But he didn’t move away. Instead, he got closer, his hands finding their way onto the arms of my chair as we sat only a few inches apart. I tried so hard to hide my trembling hands in my lap as my body shrank  in on itself just a little bit. Although I would later claim that I was just trying to be coy, I was really terrified by the fact he was even more attractive up close.</p><p>Trying to maintain my pride and nonchalant reputation, I barely managed to develop and deliver a quick quip to get me out of the boiling water I’d landed in. </p><p>“Hey, egghead, instead of analyzing my micro expressions, how about you do take those files down?”</p><p>“Avoidance. A typical trait associated with deception,” Spencer said, shaking his head with apparent disappointment as he pushed himself back into his chair. But he also obviously used way more force than necessary, which led to his chair slowly spinning away from me as he excitedly started to speak again.</p><p>“Did you know egghead wasn’t originally an insult? It was originally a term very similar to highbrow, and although it quickly developed negative connotations, it was mostly a result of American politics.”</p><p>I glanced back to see him still spinning, albeit a bit happier now that he was in control. If he was trying to look like he’d meant to do it, he was doing a remarkably good job of it. But I knew the truth.</p><p>“Sounds like the kind of thing only an egghead would know.”</p><p>Shortly after I said it, I heard a distinct crashing sound behind me that I didn’t dare turn to look at. Soon after, Spencer popped up next to me again, this time on the other side.</p><p>“Didn’t you call yourself Humpty Dumpty last week?” he asked, grabbing hold of the counter that was cluttered with papers and trinkets to stop himself from spinning away again. It would have been cuter if he hadn’t just tried to compare me to an egg.</p><p>“I’ll have you know, Dr. Reid, that Humpty Dumpty wasn’t explicitly described as an egg until Le-“</p><p>“Lewis Carrol’s 1871 book <em>Through the Looking Glass</em>,” he cut me off, finishing the sentence with more detail than I would have given.</p><p>He didn’t need to know that, though.</p><p>“I would have gotten it right. I know things, too,” I haughtily replied. And although I wouldn’t ever admit to it, it did make the butterflies in my stomach  flutter at the thought of him finishing my sentences. I was sure it would eventually get old, but right then it just made me feel like we were straight out a cheesy Disney production.</p><p>But Disney also wasn’t really the mood I wanted our relationship to be based on. It wasn’t that I didn’t like Disney or that I thought everything revolved around adult themes and sex — both of those things could be wonderful in their own way! It’s just that disabled people are always seen as innocent, asexual beings that could never want and desire like the others.</p><p>I just wanted him to look at me and see me for who I was, the way he always did. And the real me included the ridiculously awkward but super fun flirting. So, with one final pep talk, I reminded myself that we’d never get anywhere if I was scared of the goofball who’d literally just spun circles around me.</p><p>“And for the record, of the two of us, I still contend that I’m significantly less fragile than you,” I lightheartedly teased, reaching a hand over to tap his adorable button nose.</p><p>I couldn’t tell if the flirting went over his head or if he was just too caught up in the competition, but he responded with a question.</p><p>“What’s your criteria?”</p><p>“That’s top secret information,” I said quickly, now having backed myself into a promiscuous corner with a man who might or might not know we were there at all.</p><p>“I have top secret clearance,” he answered within seconds.</p><p>Before I looked at him, I assumed that he was taking my words literally and answering them the same. But when I did turn, I saw an undeniable playfulness in every subtle movement he made. From his fingers tapping against the counter to the way his eyes bounced between my eyes and lips, I saw the charm only an equally romantically clumsy fool could give.</p><p>I chuckled, using the same finger that had messed with him before to tuck a strand of his unruly hair behind his ear. Spencer’s face turned a pleasing shade of pink at the continued physical contact, his eyes following my hand past where he could see.</p><p>But I wasn’t done. I knew how to really get to him. It also had the possibility of ruining my career. That would be worth it though, right? It definitely felt that way at the time. So I leaned forward, bypassing his very kissable, flushed cheeks to whisper in his ear, “Then maybe we should go to the SCIF and I’ll tell you <em>all</em> my secrets.”</p><p>Then I waited. I don’t know how long I waited because time warped so quickly into an existential vacuum that consisted only of me and the boy on the other end of my words. But I knew the world continued on, because I felt Spencer’s breath against my cheek just as ragged as my own. I heard the jumbled mess of thoughts that we expressed in that somewhat silent moment and I prayed that he would do something to make it more.</p><p>“(Y/n)—“ he started, his voice as soft as I imagine clouds would be.</p><p>Unfortunately, no matter what he was planning to do, it would have ended poorly. I know this because shortly after my name made its way to his mouth, the door opened, flooding the little dark room with fluorescent light and the regular timeline of reality.</p><p>“Dr. Reid?” Anderson announced.</p><p>Spencer and I tensed up and shot back so quickly, I’m surprised our chairs didn’t literally drift apart, too. Thankfully, Anderson was none the wiser, having required those precious few seconds to allow his eyes to adjust to the darkness I usually kept myself in.</p><p>“What’s up?” Spencer answered, clearing his throat and looking anywhere but in my direction.</p><p>“I just got a shipment from the Alexandria police that I could use your help with.”  </p><p>They both turned to me, and I got the strangest feeling that they were asking me for permission. Unsure of what else I was supposed to do, I just nodded and smiled. Although in my heart, I was doing anything but. Really, I was screaming at Anderson in my head for ruining my very cute moment with the very cute doctor for something as stupid as organizing files from a department that should have done it before they ever sent them.</p><p>“Right. Sure,” he said, getting up from his seat. He must have felt my eyes following him out, because Spencer stopped at the door and gave a small, sad wave and a smile before swamping me in the darkness and technicolor lights once more.</p><p>The rest of the day passed so much faster without the distraction from work, but I had way less fun than I imagined I would have had with Spencer. To be fair, though, there was no way of me really knowing that he would have returned my blatant flirting. Everything up until that last comment could be written off as jokes. I probably shouldn’t have done it, I thought, but what was I going to do about it? An apology seemed like the easiest solution, and I had plenty of time to dream it up as I made my way down to the file room to grab the records that I’d printed for the assholes on the second floor.</p><p>I was originally planning on dropping them off on my way out, but lo and behold, the files weren’t there. It didn’t take a genius to know where they’d gone. I looked down at my watch and saw that it was nearly five and prayed that he hadn’t left for the day. Because once he was gone, I would have to wait two damn weeks to yell at him.</p><p>I was in such a rush to get back to the BAU’s bullpen that I didn’t even notice the person in front of me waiting for the elevator. But luckily, Spencer noticed me.</p><p>“Hey!” he greeted with a smile stretched over his cheeks.</p><p>I tried to ignore how cute it was that he seemed so excited by my sweaty, out of breath self. I was mad at him, dammit.</p><p>“You took the files down. I didn’t need you to do that,” I huffed, trying to catch my breath while also trying to prevent the elevator doors from closing between us. Spencer put his hand out to catch it, but then also stepped over my crutch to stand beside me.</p><p>“I did. Sorry,” he freely acknowledged with a shrug. “But in my defense, I didn’t do it because I think you’re incapable. I did it… out of the kindness of my heart. And another slightly selfish reason.”</p><p>“What’s that?” I immediately demanded the explanation, not realizing just how worked up I’d gotten. It’s like my mind was running on inertia and assumptions that had already been discredited. I’d been so angry about the idea of him doing my job out of pity that I had forgotten to remember that the wasn’t that kind of man. Which meant…</p><p>“Because I knew that if I did it, you would confront me about it, and I would get to talk to you again.”</p><p>If you could have put a microphone to my thoughts in that moment, you would have heard the familiar dial tone of a computer still trying to connect. Spencer, on the other hand, just averted his gaze from my dumbstruck, flattered expression, back to the comfort of the back of the elevator doors, wearing what I’d come to think of as his signature smirk.</p><p>“So you’re flirting with me?” I thought out loud, only halfway turning to him as I muttered the question. If he struggled to understand the slurred, muffled words, he made no show of it.</p><p>Instead, very confidently and with a little bit of sass, he replied, “Sorry, was I not obvious enough about it? Yes, I am flirting with you.”</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>As soon as I’d asked the question, I regretted it. It sounded so pathetic. Why would someone flirt with me? I knew the answer to that question! It was just those stupid insecurities bubbling up from beneath the surface, threatening to spoil a day of lighthearted fun with Spencer. But the boy wonder just shrugged, his smile never once leaving his face.</p><p>“Why wouldn’t I?”</p><p>The elevator came to its stop at the parking garage, and as he stepped off after me, I realized he was planning on walking me to my car. Although for a brief second I worried he might get caught in commuter traffic on my account, my heart rioted at the thought of  letting that distant concern ruin the moment.</p><p>Sure enough, Spencer stayed next to me down the familiar path to my car. As I unlocked it, the small beep resounding in the large garage, he stopped me from going too far with another gentle confession.</p><p>“It was fun hanging out with you today.”</p><p>I turned back to face him, nodding my head back and forth in contemplation before I settled on an only slightly insulting joke back, “Yeah, I guess it’s not so bad listening to you talk.”</p><p>Spencer smiled at the jab, taking a few steps closer to stand in front of me. “I barely got a word in all day.” He tried to complain, but we both knew it was nonsense. Just because he hadn’t talked as much as usual hardly meant I’d been spewing soliloquies. .</p><p>“How much do you expect to talk in any given conversation, Dr. Reid?”</p><p>He mirrored my earlier signal, his head lolling from side to side until he answered, “Until there’s nothing left to say.”</p><p>“We’d be here all night,” I chuckled, repositioning my crutches so I could sway closer to him in the already quickly narrowing gap between our bodies.</p><p>“Doesn’t have to be here,” Spencer returned with a shrug and a smirk.</p><p>We were fast approaching dangerous territory, and I struggled to try and decide just how much of the conversation was for fun and what was serious. I knew that he wasn’t exactly the most perceptive person, and so that younger, scared version of myself screamed in the back of my head that someone like Spencer would never see me as anything more than a friend.</p><p>But there was an easy way to test those boundaries. I could challenge those rude, self-hating thoughts with as much repartee as he would allow. And if today was any indication, he would let it go on for a long time. Hell, he’d practically said as much.</p><p>“I don’t think we need a more romantic atmosphere for a conversation,” I said, challenging him with the strongest eye contact I could muster without giving away just how scared I really was.</p><p>It didn’t work. My mounting anxiety was so obvious it might as well had been written on my forehead. Spencer, trained in the art of recognizing when people were lying to themselves and others, saw it immediately.</p><p>“Not everything that should be said needs to be spoken,” he assured me, looking down at the asphalt. And in that simple, seemingly pointless motion, I felt the same insecurities projected back to me. It became clear to me that the two of us were playing the stupidest game of chicken, and both of us were too petrified of rejection to make that final jump.</p><p>But he was trying. He was trying so hard, his eyes slowly making their way back to my face and finding my precarious smile. </p><p>“In fact, some of the most compelling statements don’t involve words at all,” he proudly opined, finding comfort in the similar thoughts displayed in each other’s eyes.</p><p>“Come here,” I called.</p><p>First, Spencer just looked down at my finger as I released the crutch and beckoned him closer, as if to ask me how that was possible. We were already close enough that I could almost feel his body heat. But I cleared my throat, bringing his attention back to where it mattered and motioned for him to lower his face to mine.</p><p>Once he did, I didn’t give him a chance to reconsider, swiftly connecting our lips in a rather chaste kiss, considering what I actually wanted to do. Spencer jumped at the contact, his hands jumping forward to grab my hips to stop himself from falling on top of me in his shock.</p><p>I hadn’t planned for it to become a full-fledged make out session in the FBI parking garage, but it seemed that Spencer had different plans. Bringing one hand up to my face, he pulled my whole body against his as he kissed me again.</p><p>And although hard and rushed, the kiss wasn’t rough in the slightest. It was patient, tender, and comforting. His lips felt like they were always meant to be there, and even in the Virginia heat his warm hands felt like heaven. He was sweeter than the sugar that had been stuck to my cheeks, and I wished that I could start every morning with him, instead.  </p><p>I giggled into his lips as the kiss came to its sadly inevitable end, my face following his as he pulled away.</p><p>“Looks like you were right,” I said through the laughter, biting down on my bottom lip that still tingled with his touch.</p><p>Spencer laughed, too, leaving his hands on me even as he pulled back. </p><p>“That’s two to nothing in my favor,” he pointed out as we both tried to slow our racing hearts.</p><p>“You’re keeping score?” I said, playfully throwing my shoulder forward to knock into his arm. He let his hands fall away, using them instead to run through his hair and smooth down his shirt that had become rumpled in the fray.</p><p>“To be fair, you haven’t tested my biggest theory,” I objected, raising my eyebrows as I finally opened my car door and removed one of my crutches. Spencer continued watching me, albeit a little sad now that there was a piece of metal between us.</p><p>“Which one is that?”</p><p>Tossing both crutches into the car, I turned back just long enough to answer.</p><p>“That I’m not as fragile as you might think I am.”</p><p>Once I climbed into the car, Spencer finally joined me on my side of the door, resting his hand on the car to prevent me from closing it before he got all the answers he wanted. </p><p>“How do you propose we test that theory?”</p><p>“You’re a genius. Why don’t you figure it out?” I cheekily shrugged.</p><p>He glanced around the immediate area, probably to avoid an HR disaster, before he said in a lower, and dare I say sultry voice, “I have a feeling that one might require a more romantic atmosphere.”</p><p>“Not romantic. Just… private,” I corrected with a coy grin.</p><p>The poor guy’s face started to turn red again, and I only felt a little guilty for getting him worked up when I knew I probably wouldn’t see him for two weeks. Then again… A vacation was the perfect time to get to know him, wasn’t it?</p><p>Spencer, clearly reading my mind, suddenly blurted out the least smooth but most endearing, genuine compliment I’d ever received. “You’re the most interesting person I’ve ever met. Let me take you out for dinner.”</p><p>The sudden question caught me so off guard that I almost pinched myself. I chose to ignore the offer at first, my brain still convinced this was all some elaborate joke or something I’d dreamed during a nap at my desk following my eighth cup of coffee.</p><p>“That’s not private at all,” I countered, nervously starting my car so that my hands would have something more productive to do. I was worried that if I hadn’t given them something, they would have tried to drag him into the car right then and there.</p><p>“No, it’s not,” he agreed, trying to hide his childlike enthusiasm behind the more promiscuous banter, “I have a few more theories to test before then.”</p><p>“Fine. I guess you’re worth the wait,” I sighed, finally allowing myself to reach up and grab his tie. I considered pulling him down to me, but to my surprise, he made the motion for me. That time, the kiss was short and sweet. It was the first of what would hopefully become too many to count.</p><p>Before he left me completely, though, he stopped with his hands on the door. He looked down at me like he always did, so effortlessly beautiful and comforting in his sincerity. I saw so many things in his eyes, but never pity or remorse. I saw joy, compassion, and a future that I would very much like to explore.</p><p>“And for the record…” Spencer said, reading my mind one more time before the day’s end, “I really hope your theory is right.”</p>
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